


Do a Devon Loch

by koinini



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Harry Potter AU, KaiSoo - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:26:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koinini/pseuds/koinini
Summary: This would have been Gryffindor’s fourth win in a row, had the last 15 seconds not just happened.  In his haste to end the game, Jongin hadn’t noticed the cloaked figure flying straight at him from his left. The collision was quick, very quick.





	

He doesn’t think there was ever a time in the past when the Quidditch pitch was this quiet.

 

Within five seconds the relentless babbles of students decked in their house colors had died down into murmurs, an air of tension looming over the entire pitch. Jongin could almost feel the stare of hundreds, prickling against his skin as he struggles to get on his feet and slip off his goggles to fully take in the situation.

It’s a jumbled flash of events in his head, but all he remembers is that five hours into the game the golden snitch was within his reach. He was smiling, racing mere inches above the ground with his one hand firmly gripped onto his Firebolt 2012 and his other outstretched, confident that the house cup was theirs for the taking _. Again._

This would have been Gryffindor’s fourth win in a row, had the last 15 seconds not just happened.  In his haste to end the game, Jongin hadn’t noticed the cloaked figure flying straight at him from his left.

The collision was quick, very quick.

There was all but a soft swoosh of the wind before he was sent flying off his broom and toppling onto the ground. Someone had lunged in front of him, swift enough to avoid a direct crash but slow enough to smash Jongin’s face against said person’s boot.

(Admittedly, however, the Gryffindor seeker worried more for his broom than the bones in his body because, in Merlin’s name, that thing cost a fortune)

He mildly remembers the taste of soil in his mouth too, but he’s never going to let anyone know that.

He lets out a groan after several minutes of lying there completely immobile, forcing himself up only to realize that his hands were empty, bearing no sign of the golden snitch, not even a graze on his fingertips.

There’s panic in his eyes when he frantically begins searching his surroundings, eyes eventually finding its way to the wobbling figure meters away from him. The sight of those kneepads and boots still leave a sting to his swollen cheek, but it’s the cloak that catches his attention. It’s green. It’s green and it’s definitely not red, the color of venom, of envy and of arrogance, the color of _snakes._

He watches as the boy struggles to sit himself up, goggles displaced and hair unruly. The gryffindor seeker is about two seconds away from rushing over and helping the poor thing up, a plethora of apologies ready at the tip of his tongue, but unfortunately two seconds was time enough for him to catch the flash of gold nestled in the palm of the boy’s hand.

He freezes, eyes wide with disbelief, even when the crowd breaks into a roar of cheers followed by the commentator’s booming voice announcing Slytherin’s win.

The opposing team’s seeker isn’t even given enough time to process their victory before he’s instantly tackled onto the ground by his teammates. Of course, the Slytherin towers were the first to roar, a bunch of green and silver quidditch paraphernalia thrown into the air in celebration of their magnanimous victory. Gryffindor is finally dethroned and today marks the reign of Slytherin.

It takes a while for the house of lions to get over their loss, their initial outburst of sighs and groans a much expected reaction, but eventually they join in with the applause, all in good spirits. Inter-house rivalry was something too long gone in the past to bring up again over something as trivial as a quidditch match. Nobody needed a third wizarding war.

But as much as the Gryffindor seeker would love to shake hands and exchange words of congratulations, Jongin allows his feet to drag him across the field instead, past the worried glances of his teammates and towards their team’s quarters because he couldn’t really control the surge of disappointment that suddenly overrules his principles on good sportsmanship.

Bloody hell, he _wanted_ that house cup. No one else in that pitch wanted that trophy more than he did. He didn’t cut a few classes and skip a few meals for practice only to la-di-da alongside his opponent.

Finding out that the Slytherin seeker was a new recruit didn’t help his crumbling ego either. A bitter chuckle was the only reaction he could muster up upon hearing the information, thinking how giddy the damned journalists would probably be to write their next quidditch segment: _Gryffindor’s captain, ace and secret weapon, Jongin Kim, defeated by a Slytherin rookie_? _Seeker of the Red and Gold pulls a Devon Loch?_

He’s going to have to skip tomorrow’s paper.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 “If it helps, their victory today was the only thing that saved them from falling second place.”

 

 It’s evening now in Hogwarts and most of the students have retired into their respective common rooms.

Gathered around the fireplace up in the Gryffindor tower is the house’s quidditch team, looking much less intimidating without their broomsticks and uniforms. The other students mile about, patting them on the shoulder for a job well done before scurrying up to their beds to call it a day. It’s nice and quiet at this hour and usually Jongin would enjoy munching on some ginger newts while listening to Taeyon and Sooyoung’s nightly philosophical chats. But alas, fate has other plans for him.

Currently he sits on the carpeted floor, back against the sofa as he rests his head on Seulgi’s knee. Said woman is running her fingers through his hair comfortingly while Chanyeol is languidly strumming his guitar, limbs sprawled over the entire expanse of a loveseat. Luna and Minho busy themselves over a game of wizard’s chess somewhere to the side.

The only member missing is their youngest, a new recruit named Mark who had silently slipped away from their little meeting in favor of sinking down onto his mattress and blacking out almost instantly. The poor thing was probably exhausted.

With the games over and the house cup won, the pressure is finally lifted off their shoulders and the time for them to claim their well-deserved rest has come.

However, none of them could seem to feel completely at ease when gray clouds still hung over their captain’s head like a curse.

“You know it’s not your fault, Jongin…. _Bishop to A5_.” Luna is the first to break the silence, eyes intently glued onto the chess game she plays. Her lips purse into a frown when Minho’s knight slices through one of her pawns in one swift motion.

Jongin’s response is a regretful sigh. “I had it. It was right there I…If only I’d been more aware and less cocky.”

“Oh hush.” This time it’s Seulgi who speaks up, flicking the seeker’s forehead with enough force to elicit a groan from him. “Could you be any more dramatic? It’s nobody’s fault, certainly not yours. We wouldn’t even have been in that match if it weren’t for you. And for the record, you have every right to be cocky! You’re bloody talented if you haven’t realized it yet!”

“Flattery.” He all but mutters, lifting his head from the girl’s knee and rubbing over the spot she had flicked. He stares ahead into the fireplace as the morning’s events replay in his head for the hundredth time that evening. “I didn’t recognize their seeker though. I heard he was a rookie? What happened to Lisa?”

“You heard right.” Chanyeol swings his gigantic legs off the couch, taking a more decent position than his last. “Disclaimer, I’ve only heard the gossip from a huffly puffly friend of mine so don’t go asking me for facts.” At this the others merely roll their eyes, obviously not surprised.

“Anyway, apparently Lalisa scored herself a dislocated shoulder while training for the last match, leaving the snakes one member short. They had to undergo a quick tryout session and well, golden boy here suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Word got around that he was pretty wicked for a new recruit and I was highly skeptical at first but damn, did he prove himself today. I mean did you see what he did? He Chelmondiston Charged slash Dionysus Dived that snitch right on! And I thought that could only be done with Quaffles!”  

The redhead barely gets to finish his sentence before a pillow is sent flying across the room and smashing onto his face, care of Seulgi Kang. “You are _not_ helping you bloke.”

Jongin lets out another sigh, “It’s fine.” He says, everyone’s eyes on him once he stands up and pockets the wand he’s been fiddling with. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“Oh Jongin, don’t be so hard on yourself…”

“I just…need some time alone.” 

“Do what you must to get that guilt off your chest.”

“Yeah, do what you must but it’s curfew in a few hours so I suggest you don’t stay out too long if you don’t want to dock another 50 points from us.”  

Not even seconds go by before Chanyeol’s face is met with yet another pillow. One would expect such precise aims from team chaser Kang. “You’re such a pig.” She says, but there’s no real sass to it.

 

Jongin leaves the common room just as the two break into their own odd rendition of a pillow fight, Luna’s reprimands for them to keep it down the last thing he hears before the fat lady seals the entrance, leaving him to the eerie silence of the grand staircase.

He easily makes his way down all seven flights of stairs without falling victim to their confusing movements, his five years’ of experience in Hogwarts quite enough for him to know how the mechanism of it works (one or two near death experiences included). Once he’s safely on the ground floor, he takes a deep breath and begins his journey towards the west tower, where Penny is most probably waiting for his good ol’company (or perhaps happily feeding on worms).

He makes it a point to tune out the blasting music coming from the Slytherin dungeons, the ones that echo all the way up into the Entrance Hall making it nearly impossible to avoid. His best guess is that it’s a celebration, they’re probably rejoicing over the fall of Jongin Kim and worshiping the new kid like he was “the boy who lived” in their history books. The thought causes him to roll his eyes, quickening his pace in eager desire to just drown the noise out completely.

Outside it’s cold, spring still leaving a bit of room for the winter chills. Jongin had clearly overlooked this fact when he threw on a lousy shirt on top of his equally lousy sweatpants before heading out, so when his teeth begin to chatter and when his nose gets slightly runny, he has no one else to blame but himself.

He gets a little mud on his shoes on his way up the footpath though he couldn’t seem to care less, concentrating more on the smell of petrichor emanating from the rapidly drying grass. He briefly wonders whether it had rained earlier in the day without his notice, perhaps when he was too busy moping about their loss. Most likely.

With a few more turns he’s finally climbing up the familiar winding staircase that takes him all the way up to the owlery, where he expects to see his beloved Athena noctua perched onto the rafter, looking warm, fuzzy, and cute. He just needs a moment of solitary contemplation, a moment to be around someone who _didn’t_ witness his embarrassing flop in today’s game, even if it meant that that someone would be an owl.

“Penny?” Jongin whispers into the darkness, drawing out his wand and muttering a soft _Lumos minima_ under his breath. Looking around in the firefly glow he narrowly manages to avoid a tawny owl that comes gliding in through the open doorway, following it’s movements with his wand and watching as it perches onto one of the lower rafters. No, not Penny.

From the corner of his eye he captures the movement of a shadow, briefly floating across a band of moonlight that filters through one of the high windows. Instinctively, he whips his wand in its direction and sheds light on a familiar figure, sulphur-yellow eyes staring back at him.

“Penny!” He grins, but it only lasts for a split second before he realizes that his beloved owl is rested on the arm of someone he doesn’t quite recognize.

The stranger, still slightly obscured by the darkness, flinches as Jongin takes a careful step forward. He keeps moving until the glow from his wand brings sight to a pale faced boy whose eyes are nearly as wide as Penny’s, surprise evident in his expression. Clearly, neither of the two students were expecting company.

“Oh- Sorry,” Jongin begins, “I didn’t think anyone else was up here.”

The boy eyes him cautiously, remaining still even as Penny flaps her wings to perch onto the arm that Jongin outstretches for her. “I didn’t expect anyone to come up either. Is she yours?” The stranger asks, turning to face him. It’s only then that he notices the owl resting on the other’s shoulder, greyish-brown in color with eyes as black as coal.

“Yeah, this one’s mine.”

“Bit of a tiny one, isn’t she.”

“Tiny, yes. Feisty, more so. But I quite like her this way.”

“And her name?”

Jongin eyes the other warily, bringing his hand up to lightly pet the owl in subject “Pennelope…Penny for short.”

“Penny... So that’s what you’re called.”

Re-uttering the said name under his breath the boy then smiles fondly down at her, reaching out and giving her a scratch to the head. Jongin felt mildly surprised at the straightforwardness of it all, feeling a little left out when the boy hadn’t even asked for his approval before getting his hands all over _his_ owl. It was apparent that they had already bonded in some way and Jongin couldn’t stop himself from thinking _Traitor!_ As he eyed the winged creature.

As if sensing his distress, the stranger withdraws his hand “I didn’t woo her in your absence, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says, breaking Jongin’s train of thought. When he looks up the boy is moving closer underneath the light of his wand.

“This is Gilligan.” Jongin’s eyes flicker over to the black-eyed owl perched comfortably on the stranger’s shoulder. It shuffles its wings a bit, as though it knows it’s being addressed. “I call him Gillie.”

“Gillie? Like Gillyweed? Gillywater?”

The boy quirks an eyebrow, unamused. Jongin clears his throat in an attempt to suppress the embarrassment.

“No. Like Gilligan.”

“Right.” _Brilliant, stuck with someone who has no sense of humor._

They fall into a brief moment of silence, awkwardness hanging thick in the air between them. Despite moving to the opposite end of the room, Jongin keeps a watchful eye on the boy who goes about tying a letter securely onto Gillie’s feet. He languidly runs his fingers through Penny’s feathers while listening to the other’s murmurs of what he expects are instructions.

“I’m Jongin.” He blurts out, just as Gillie ascends midair and takes off into the night sky. In response he merely gets yet another quirk of an eyebrow and it makes him think of what he could have possibly said wrong in the last 2 words he spoke.

“Of course you are. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you?”

“Hey, contrary to popular belief not everyone watches quidditch.”

“Perhaps. But you should see the number of heads that turn to watch you saunter into the great hall. With your windswept hair and goggles, which you often forget to take off by the way. Only a fool wouldn’t think you’re in the quidditch team.” 

“The detail by which you just described that gives me this impending idea that you like to catch a few glimpses yourself.”

The boy snorts at the playful smirk directed at him “Oh don’t flatter yourself. It’s hard to ignore someone who doesn’t even groom himself properly before breakfast.”

Jongin surprises himself slightly when a bubble of laughter erupts from his chest, barely even remembering how under the weather he was feeling just hours ago. “Well then since I’m apparently already oh-so-famous, I guess I get to ask the questions. What’s your name?”

 It takes a while of silent scrutinizing and judgment before he’s finally provided with an answer. “Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo Do.” The boy, _Kyungsoo_ , says, and each syllable is spoken so cautiously it’s almost as if he’s afraid of his reaction.

“Pleasure to meet you, Kyungsoo.” Jongin whips out an effortless smile that could charm even the prudest owl in the room. Kyungsoo is silently glad that the darkness is thick enough to shield the blooming pink of his cheeks. Not that it meant anything.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He responds (albeit a bit shakily), and before he could even think he’s already making his way to the doorway. “I’m sorry I have to go, I’m technically supposed to be somewhere else right now.”

“Oh- well-“ The taller stumbles over his own words, rushing to think of something to say before he lets his new friend go. Kyungsoo lingers for a few seconds longer, as if waiting for a proper goodbye, but Jongin soon gives up in forming a coherent sentence and merely glues his gaze back to Penny who chooses this time to flap her wings and perch onto a beam that runs across the ceiling. Kyungsoo takes it as his cue to leave, footsteps echoing across the stone walls as he walks out and descends the narrow, spiral staircase.

He doesn’t get far, however, before someone is rushing down the stairs after him in a firm, steady tread. Kyungsoo turns around only to find Jongin stopping a few steps above him. “Wait- I, uhm, I forgot to ask what house you’re from.” The Gryffindor lamely attempts, and Kyungsoo would rather not admit that his heart is beating a little bit faster than necessary at the moment. However, he remains composed, barely suppressing a smile when he answers “Slytherin. It’s Slytherin”

At the mention of this, Something in Jongin’s expression changes. He flashes a smile that looks more pained than happy, the corners of his lips not quite reaching his eyes like they usually do. Kyungsoo seems to sense the change of atmosphere and belatedly realizes why the other looks so troubled, his eyes widening considerably as they both have a flashback of this morning’s game.

 

“Congratulations.”

 

Before Kyungsoo could even say anything the Gryffindor player beats him to it, not really wanting to deal with anyone’s pity or console at the moment. After all, the last thing he needs is someone reminding him that he had messed up pretty badly, someone from the house that threw them over, for bloody crying out loud.

He braces himself for the words that were to follow, expecting something along the lines of _Aw what a shame, but here’s always a next time, right?_

Surprisingly though, all he gets in return is a blindingly bright smile that, he notes, is closely shaped to a heart.

“You played fantastically today, just as you do on any other day you fly onto that pitch. You ought to be proud of yourself, Jongin. I’m sure a great deal of people look up to you.”

 

This is the last he sees of Kyungsoo Do before the slytherin boy is continuing his descend down the stairs, leaving Jongin to his own thoughts. _Till the next game, Gryffindor!_ He hears the other yell, his voice fading as the distance between them grew.

If Jongin had known that the only distraction he needed to keep himself away from thoughts of house cups and quidditch matches were a certain pair of wide, hazel eyes and plump lips, perhaps he would have made the effort to come earlier. His heart feels warm and a smile lingers on his lips as he watches the bulk of the castle in the distance. Penny had perched onto the ledge of the stairs moments ago and is now openly staring at her human with unblinking eyes.

“What are you looking at?” Jongin mutters. The bird merely turns away, indifferent. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re joking.”

 

_Kyungsoo Do. 6 th year. Brilliant academic mind. Surprisingly agile on a broomstick. House of Slytherin’s seeker and newest recruit. _

 

_Slytherin’s seeker and newest recruit._

 

Jongin finds himself staring at the boy seated two tables away.

The great hall is always half empty during breakfast, a greater lot of students valuing sleep over eggs and bacons, that including Jongin. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the blaring sunlight that hits his face everytime Chanyeol yanks his quilt off, dragging him to the said place insisting they’re already late for whatever class it is they have first (in today’s case, it’s Charms). Jongin knows all too well that in truth, they have at least a full hour to spare. On good days he doesn’t relent, merely doing his best to make the great hall’s dining table as closely comfortable to a bed as possible.  On bad days however, Chanyeol gets a pillow to the face, or anything within arm’s reach really (the taller need not be reminded of the day Jongin’s potions book was closest to him).

Today, luckily, was a good day, and the Gryffindor seeker had conceded to his friend’s absurd wake up call.

The first 20 minutes of his morning had gone by peacefully, or- well- as peacefully as a morning could go when you’re seated next 185 cm of buzzing energy. Jongin hadn’t bothered with the other’s mindless chatter, tuning him out as soon as they’ve taken their seats in front of a platter of toast.

However, he’s proven that hard to do when the taller was insistently swatting his arm in an effort to garner his attention. But as we’ve said, today was a good day, and so he pried his attention away from the toast he was buttering and regarded his friend with a glare.

The taller cocked his head back slightly, eyes shifting towards one of the tables behind them and Jongin had instantly gotten the message. In an almost synchronized manner, the two Gryffindors slowly and subtly turned their heads to glance at the now incoming members of the Slytherin quidditch team, each one looking thoroughly spent and utterly wasted. Fun parties make rough mornings, Jongin hereby concludes.

Only 4 seem to have mustered up the energy to make it to the hall for breakfast. First to come through was Sehun Oh, a 5th year nearly as tall as Chanyeol and as lean as Jongin, 1/3 of the satanic Slytherin chasers, and also a good friend slash rival of his. They go way back to their days as muggle borns, Jongin distinctly remembering being introduced to the stoic faced blonde shortly after moving in to London.

The next his eyes fell on was Taeyong Lee, a 4th year who had managed to snag the title as captain of the Slytherin team. A title well-deserved, if you’d ask Jongin. This boy knew how to fly and it was obvious that he had a passion for it, one that almost rivaled his own. Almost. But not quite, he would like to think.

The third person had her back turned to them in a way that effectively blocked their view of the fourth. Despite only catching sight of long clouds of silvery hair, Jongin already knew who he was looking at. Irene Bae, 7th year Slytherin chaser and object of popular romantic desire. She’s quarter-veela, so the amount of attention she attracts is unsurprising, her strikingly attractive appearance and magnetic aura having men hound over her like a pack of brainless wolves. Jongin included, once upon a time.

“Look over there, it’s golden boy.” Chanyeol whispered just as Irene stepped aside, giving them a proper view of the fourth and final member present.

Jongin had nearly choked on his toast.

 

“You’re joking.”

 

Kyungsoo sits next to Sehun, sparsely contributing to the hushed chatter of his teammates. He has his nose in a book instead (which the Gryffindor briefly recognizes is on Arithmancy), round framed glasses sliding down his nose as he absent-mindedly chews on the blueberry muffin held idly in his hand.

Jongin finds himself staring, Chanyeol’s voice reduced to nothing more than a buzzing sound in the background.

At some point, the Slytherin boy stops reading when a nudge to his shoulder breaks his concentration. If only Jongin had noticed Sehun’s watchful eyes maybe he would have turned away sooner, maybe he could have avoided Kyungsoo’s gaze meeting directly with his for the split second that occurred before he and Chanyeol instinctively whip their heads around.

“Did they see us?”

“I don’t know, I’m not looking to find out. Eat!”

In a sad attempt to appear casual, the two promptly begin stuffing their faces with whatever food is within arm’s reach. It earns them a few disgusted stares from the students seated close by, but they continue to feign distraction until they deem it safe to conclude that they’re no longer under suspicion.

Now, with a mouth full of custard tart and buttered toast, Jongin allows his mind to wander back to the previous night in the owlery. He had left the common room in hopes of shooing away thoughts of a certain slytherin rookie, only to have ended up spending a part of his night conversing with that very person. The irony of the situation would have normally made him laugh, though now that he was the subject of comicality, it didn’t seem as hilarious.

In Kyungsoo’s perspective, Jongin probably looked like an outright fool. _Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you?_ A voice echoes in his head and it convinces him to run through the entirety of their conversation a second time over, wondering how much of it was genuine and how much of it was, perhaps, mockery. The thought was scandalous, but the image of Kyungsoo returning to the blasting music of the Slytherin dungeons with a ready story about the oblivious, not-so-great Gryffindor seeker, pushes all the wrong buttons in him.

It’s Chanyeol’s hand easing over his own that brings Jongin to the realization that he had been gripping his goblet a little too tightly just now. “Are…you alright?” the taller of the two inquires, crumbs littered over the corners of his mouth.

Jongin swallows absent-mindedly, loosening his grip over the poor chalice and risking another glance at the table behind.

As expected Kyungsoo’s eyes are no longer on them, in fact, he seems rather intent on avoiding any form of contact by the way his book is lifted, nearly shielding his entire face from view. It’s Sehun who catches him staring yet again, and the smug expression that crosses his face as he leans in to whisper something into Kyungsoo’s ear only makes the scowl on his face deepen.

“I know him.” The Gryffindor mentions out of the blue, looking away with finality and finishing the last of his meal.

“You do? Hell, Jongin, why didn’t you say so.” Chanyeol perks up, ever the thirsty gossip. Jongin isn’t even surprised when he’s suddenly bombarded with questions, his lanky friend making it seem as though he and Kyungsoo had been partners in crime rather than complete rivals. He answers none of the questions thrown at him, dusting his hands and gathering his charms book before quietly slipping away from his seat.

“Hey wait, where are you going?” Chanyeol shouts after him, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his robe before hurriedly picking up his book and catching up. Jongin strides down the great hall gaze fixed forward, all the while thinking of the last few words Kyungsoo had spoken to him: _You played fantastically today, just as you do on any other day you fly onto that pitch. You ought to be proud of yourself, Jongin._

“Be proud of yourself.”

He could only snort at how cocky and sarcastic it all sounds now. He’d been played for a fool.

Jongin waits until they’re well out of earshot and on their way to charms class before he finally voices out his ill-conceived thoughts.

 

“What’s he like? Charmingly deceiving I’m afraid. Learned that the hard way.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Within a few weeks’ time thoughts of quidditch are momentarily put on hold by the fifth year students of Hogwarts, easily replaced by worries over the upcoming Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations (OWL for short). As the end of the school year draws close, many have had little time to think about the next game’s season, preferring to sit amongst the floating books of the library and drown in the smell of ink. Homework for each class is also increased drastically and much of the remaining weeks is spent studying.

But then of course, there’s Jongin. Jongin who could never seem to completely set quidditch aside.

For those who know him it’s an undeniable fact that flying is, and will always be, his first priority. He _belonged_ to the wind and sky, constantly hopping from field to class and spending so much time in the air that his hair is almost permanently windswept.

Therefore it comes as no surprise to anybody when, two days before the OWLs, the Gryffindor seeker is seen alone in the training pitch, hovering idly above the ground on his broomstick. A couple of team players from the lower and higher years have come to fly a few rounds with him, though most of the seventh years have NEWTs to worry about while the lower years seem convinced that it’s too early to be practicing this seriously. It isn’t until late in the afternoon that Jongin is left completely alone, orally reviewing what he knows of Ancient Runes while performing a few drifts and spins on his broom.

The cerulean sky is blanketed in clouds. He watches the sun slowly set in the horizon, feeling strangely at ease for someone whose about to take one of the most serious and important tests in Hogwarts. He’s never been one to worry about his grades, making it through four years without ever having to wreck his brain studying. Though he’s certainly no genius, he still manages to absorb just enough information to make him last through an entire semester and land himself an impressive set of passing marks. Seulgi feels that it’s highly unfair, how he’s able to breeze through his subjects while she spends her days slaving away in the library.

Two voices from the ground break the peaceful silence of dusk. Jongin figures it’s near dinner time and the students are probably filing out of their caves in desperate need for something to replenish their energy. With a wistful sigh he finally takes his eyes away from the skyline and looks to see what’s down below.

Surprisingly, a familiar face comes into view and for a minute, he’s frozen in place.

Kyungsoo is talking animatedly with a Ravenclaw Jongin hasn’t seen before, his round framed glasses tucked neatly into his robe’s pocket as he lunges a sling bag over his shoulder (Jongin bets ten sickles that it’s filled with books again).

A smile, wide enough to show most of his teeth, lights up the Ravenclaw’s face, soon followed by a laugh that’s incredibly high pitched Jongin couldn’t help but wince. Neither of the two seem to notice him hovering above, too engrossed in whatever it is they’re rambling about.  

The Gryffindor finds himself staring intently, something he appears to be doing a lot often lately. He’s lowered himself to the ground by this time and two pairs of eyes shift in his direction the minute he begins moseying his way into the castle.

“Evening.” The ravenclaw greets, slowing down to a stop once they cross paths. Up close like this, Jongin gets a clearer view of his face and at once he’s hit with a wave of recognition, recalling a time in the past when Hogwarts was still a castle far from home, full of unfamiliar faces and awkward introductions.

“Evening. You’re…Jongdae, right? Junmyeon’s friend? I think we met as first years, maybe a couple more times after which…” He mutters unsurely. “Please do correct me if I’m wrong, I’m terrible at names.”

“It’s quite alright. I’m surprised you even remember me, after all, you’re always hoarded with fans, Mr. Seeker of the Century.”

“Please, I think that’s a rightful title for the person next to you.”

He hadn’t meant to make it sound so sarcastic, however for some reason it did anyway, judging by the way Kyungsoo flinches slightly, biting the inside of his cheek to probably refrain from spitting out a snarky remark. _Smart boy_ , he thinks to himself.

“Kyungsoo.” Jongin acknowledges, nodding his head casually only to receive silence in response. Kyungsoo merely gives him a strange look, forehead scrunched and eyes squinted in a glare. It doesn’t help appease Jongin’s growing foul mood, so he puts all his energy into concealing the scowl he so badly wants to direct to the Slytherin. _Smart boy_ , He thinks to himself yet again, _but awfully haughty_.

“Training already?” Jongdae pipes in, breaking through his musings. “The games aren’t till next school year, Shouldn’t you be fussing over your examinations instead?”

The mere mention of something quidditch related has him easily trading his stoic expression for a genuine smile. He notices the way Kyungsoo’s eyes settle on him uneasily and the thought of the other feeling threatened by his practice habits has him smiling even wider.

“Yeah, but well, it’s not anything serious...yet.” Jongin almost sing songs, just to tease “And I _am_ studying. It’s just, I remember things easily when I’m up there.”

“I can imagine why, you always look so much in your element on that thing.” Jongdae gestures at his broomstick, “What model?”

“Firebolt 2012.”

“Blimey, that’s a fast one, no wonder you’re practically teleporting. Must’ve cost a fortune.”

“It did, I’d probably shed a tear or two if I ruined it somehow.”

“Best be a little less rowdy on the field then,” The ravenclaw gives another one of his Cheshire grins before regarding his friend with a questioning look, “What’s yours again, Kyungsoo?”

“Comet 260.” Plain and Straightforward.

“Not as impressive but your performance makes up for it.”

Jongin awkwardly clears his throat, desperate to change the subject before he says anything he might regret. “Where are you two heading?”

“Dinner.” This time, Kyungsoo is the one to answer, voice rich like warm caramel rapidly cooling atop a scoop of Fortescue's. “For someone who spends so much time in the sky, I’d think that you’d notice something as simple as the sun setting, Mr. Kim.”

_Mr Kim?_

The corners of Jongin’s lip twitches slightly, itching to flip down into a frown and reflect the slow boiling irritation inside of him. If Kyungsoo’s noticed, he makes no show of it, merely pursing his lips together and lightly clutching onto the hem of Jongdae’s robe. Said boy promptly claps his hands together in hopes of easing the tense atmosphere, laughing a little too loudly before ushering his Slytherin friend ahead of him.

“Well we’d best be on our way, I heard there’s gonna be some sticky toffee pudding today, wouldn’t wanna miss that.”

Jongin opens his mouth to respond but the distance between them grows rapidly as the two walk swiftly down the opposite direction. “Goodluck on your exams! On Quidditch! On life in general!” he hears the Ravenclaw faintly shout once they’re a good distance away, sprinting towards the castle entrance with Kyungsoo notably lagging behind. _Guess he’s only quick on brooms_.

The Gryffindor seeker turns to make his own merry way to the great hall, wondering how his friends are holding up with the pressure of the upcoming OWLs. He suspects that Seulgi and Minho are doing just fine, both being effortless top notchers in their respective years. Chanyeol’s study habits are slightly more like his, except instead of quidditch, he has music to aid his memory. If there’s anyone who would hum to himself during exams and get repeatedly scolded for it, it would be Chanyeol Park.   

These are the kinds of thoughts Jongin tries to immerse himself in.

He tries to convince his mind not to wander back to images of owlish eyes and freckles, of threatening glares and knitted brows. But for some reason, Kyungsoo just keeps finding his way into Jongin’s little thought bubble and the Gryffindor would like to believe it’s for no other reason than scorn. He doubts its attraction, denies it fervently, even as his feet veer out of direction and take him to somewhere that is definitely _not_ the way to the great hall.

He ends up making a sharp U-turn and tracing the path that the two had walked a while ago (or sprinted, rather) holding on to the belief that this is absolutely necessary to gain a more in depth observation of his rival for the next house cup. For the sake of the Gryffindor pride, he justifies

The hall Jongin enters is completely deserted and silent, therefore his ears quickly pick up on the echo of footsteps somewhere further up ahead. They’re accompanied by two voices whispering to each other, the same two that had bid him farewell just minutes ago. Following these sounds, he hastens his pace and peeks through every corner, the voices getting closer each time.

Luckily he doesn’t get too lost, and on his fifth turn he finally spots the pair who were still deep in conversation, jerking back behind a wall in fear of being caught. He watches from a corner as Jongdae nudges Kyungsoo repeatedly, the latter whacking him on the arm obviously annoyed by whatever it is he’s joshing him about. Their banter only lasts a few minutes before the Slytherin is pulled into a tight hug and is left on his own.

Jongin’s eyes widen considerably at the brief realization that Jongdae is now speedily heading down his direction. A disillusionment charm would have been impossible to cast without being heard and Jongdae was just walking too fast, so with not a nook nor cranny to hide in, he braces himself against the wall and does his best to become one with it. An act he’ll definitely feel silly about later.

Odds prove to be in his favor, however, when the Ravenclaw disappears into a separate hall, right before the one he hides in. He breathes out a sigh of relief and promptly sags against the cold stone walls. Now would be a good time to revive the marauder’s map, he thinks, unaware of the sly smirk on Jongdae’s face as he skips the rest of his way to the main castle.

Once the echo of his footsteps have completely faded out, only then does Jongin risk another peek.

He’s met by the sight of an empty corridor, the flickering torch lights the only sign of movement there is. Frowning, Jongin steps out of the corner and cautiously walks forward to the spot where Kyungsoo once stood. Outside the sun had set and the skies were now blanketed in darkness, allowing the fires to cast shadows over Jongin’s lone figure.

He searches the span of empty corridors to no avail. Kyungsoo is gone, and the Gryffindor is left confused, wondering where he was, how he had left, and most importantly, why he was all he could think about.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sound of a train whistle cuts through the air and students milling about the platform wave their final goodbyes. Promises of gifts and next times are thrown back and forth as the Hogwarts express prepares for its departure to London.

Jongin is among its passengers, patiently waiting for the train to set in motion as he throws a bashful smile to the small group of ladies fawning over him from outside his window. More often than not, he forgets how much quidditch has done for his own status and popularity in school. He’s never really learned how to respond to such blatant expressions of admiration.

From the corner of his eyes he spots Luna and Seulgi, giggling at his apparent lack of knowledge on how to deal with a handful of girls. He turns his head to them, just in time to stick his tongue out in a playful manner before the train jerks forward. With one final glance around, the Hogwarts express chugs in motion, gradually accelerating and carrying the few hundred students who rode it, home. Jongin watches as the crowd grows smaller in the distance, all until the entire Hogsemeade platform is no longer visible.

 Originally, Jongin had a compartment all to himself, but of course no one would expect such good luck to last for the entire trip. Not even twenty minutes go by before someone is already welcoming himself into Jongin’s little bubble of space, with his pet cat and luggage in tow. The Gryffindor doesn’t even have to look up to recognize who it is, the thin furred Siamese sprawled comfortably on the seat opposite could only belong to Sehun Oh.

“Hey.” Jongin greets, briefly getting up from his seat to give the other a proper hug. “So it’s me and you again this summer, huh?”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” A cocky smirk plasters on the Slytherin’s face and Jongin couldn’t help but grin back. Ever the tease. “I’m only staying over for a night.”

“What time will your mom pick you up?”

Sehun puckers his lips in thought, heaving his luggage up into the compartment with the other’s help. “Eleven in the morning. Still enough time for us to grab breakfast I suppose, I kind of want a Wagamama.”

“Of course we’re getting Wagamama,” Jongin snorts at this, plopping back down onto the velvet seat and eyeing the cat whose tail swishes with interest. “It’s practically a tradition.”

“Hey, I was only trying to be discreet. You wouldn’t want me speaking terms and conditions would you?”

The blonde’s brow quirks and Jongin instantly regrets ever mentioning the place.

1 Tavistock street, convent garden’s Wagamama is otherwise known as Jongin and Sehun’s favorite place in the whole of London.  It’s no more than a restaurant that specializes in Japanese cuisine, really, and it had been where the two boys’ parents’ first bonded over a bowl of Omakase. Jongin still vividly remembers being invited out for supper by his new neighbors, watching disgustedly as the kid with a sharp chin stuffed his face with shrimp tempuras.

Up until Hogwarts, the place was nothing more than a go-to restaurant for the two who grew up together. But in the middle of their first term Sehun receives mail, informing him of his parent’s plan to move to Brighton by the time he gets back. Jongin’s heart sank a little, but considering it was only around a two hour drive away from London, they didn’t make much of a fuss about it.

That term, Jongin had gotten into the quidditch team as the youngest Gryffindor seeker in a long while. He had been feeling particularly playful relaying the news to Sehun, teasing him for not having the guts to join like he did, despite being equally as skilled on a broomstick. “ _You’re treating me to some Wagamama when we get back_.” He had demanded, claiming that it was only a rightful gift from a good friend. 

Sehun had only snorted at him, and it was then that he uttered the words he’d unknowingly regret saying for the next three years of his life. _“Fine I’ll treat you. But I’m joining next year, and if Slytherin wins, you treat me_.”

Much to his dismay, Griffyndor snags the trophy for almost four consecutive years, two with Jongin as team Captain.

 _Almost,_ Four consecutive years.

“Is Lisa recovering?” Jongin asks, trying not to groan at the obvious implications of his loss. He should have known this day would come, he might as well bid _Evanesco_ to his wallet.

“She is, thankfully. Though I doubt Taeyong has any plans of stripping off Kyungsoo’s title as seeker after that stunt he pulled. She’d probably take Irene’s place as chaser next year, if she still wants in.”

“Shame, Lisa’s really fun to race with...” Jongin says with sincerity, eyes flitting out the window momentarily, missing the way the corner of Sehun’s lips twitch up.

“Kyungsoo can be pretty fun too.” The blonde remarks and Jongin instantly senses the tease in his friend’s tone, rolling his eyes dramatically in response.

“Oh spare me, not another member of his growing fanclub.”  

“Have you met him?” Sehun rests his back against his seat, petting the cat that has now settled onto his lap.

“A couple of times. No more than a hello, really.”

“Liked what you saw on the field?”

"I couldn't really see anything with grass on my face and soil in my mouth, could I, Sehun?"

"Merlin’s beard, you fell that hard? I should've given Kyungsoo a crown."   

That seemed to irk the Gryffindor, said boy wearing an affronted look on his face as he kicks his foot forward, effectively hitting Sehun square on the knee. A crown? As if Kyungsoo wasn’t being glorified enough. “You git! You know I wanted that cup!”

“And _you_ know that I hate spending, yet you subject me to taking you to Wagamama’s on a yearly basis!” Sehun retorts in a childish whine, rubbing his knee with a pout. 

They would have probably went on arguing for an entire afternoon if it weren’t for someone knocking on their compartment door. Both their heads turn to the sound of it being slid open, revealing a very confused looking Mark Lee.

The first year smiles politely at his seniors before squeezing himself in, eyes seemingly scanning the small, cramped space. “Hey guys,” He greets, voice teetering on the line between pre- and post-puberty. “Olie’s missing, any chance he scurried in here?”

Jongin throws Sehun a questioning look and when the other responds with an expression just as clueless, he regards his team keeper with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, kid. If he were around, I think we would have noticed by now. Besides, no rat would come within a ten mile radius close to _that_.”

An accusing finger is suddenly pointed to the Siamese currently purring on its master’s lap, one which Sehun quickly swats away with a scowl. “ _That_ is a cat, and she has a name, and it’s Abbey.” He says, attempting to appear stern but sounding more like a child throwing a tantrum.

Jongin does his best impression of a hiss, baring his canine teeth at the feline who didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered.

Their previous conversation dies down from thereon. With Mark slipping into the picture, it no longer seemed like a suitable discussion to be having. The most recent match had been the younger’s first, after all, and at his age winning or losing shouldn’t be above having fun just yet. That was for the captain to worry about. That was for Jongin to worry about.

 

The train speeds past the Highlands of Scotland, providing the students with a picturesque view of the pine forests and the bleeding skies of sunset. Jongin had dozed off for the most part, occasionally waking up to the sound of Chanyeol’s heavy feet stomping across their compartment or Sehun’s noisy chewing as he takes the lot of what’s on Madame Helga’s trolley.  

It isn’t long before he’s waking up to the screeching of the engines and the air whistle signaling their arrival to King’s Cross Station, London. Outside, the stars reveal themselves one by one as if to welcome the hoard of students filing out of the train and onto platform 9 ¾. Jongin takes a deep inhale of the evening air before hauling his luggage off the floor and tracing down familiar paths that lead him closer and closer to the warmest place he knows. _Home._

One look at the terraced house that he now stands in front of is enough to plant a smile on his lips and urge his feet to rush up the stone steps like a delighted child. Everything is as he remembers it, the sash windows and the London stock bricks never fail to fill him with a sense of nostalgia. Even the fact that Sehun is right behind him, standing idly aside as he fumbles to get the keys in, brings rise to a few happy memories.

“Pop?”

They step inside, wooden floors creaking at the weight of their feet as the two take notice of the heady smell of coffee wafting from all the way inside the kitchen.

“Is that my boy I hear?” a man’s voice shouts, and it has Jongin instantly dropping his luggage in favor of fitting himself into the strong pair of arms belonging to the figure who emerges down the end of the hall. Coming into view is a tall, muscular man whose tough exterior is betrayed by the pink floral apron tied around his waist.

Sehun shrugs his jacket off as he watches the father and son duo exchange greetings, noting how their striking similarities are only proof of how Jongin is growing to be the spitting image of his father. Perhaps only a bit more…magically inclined, for lack of a better term.

“Did you miss me?” the Gryffindor pipes, childish grin, crescent eyes and all.

“Champ, you left me here with three ladies, _three_ ladies! I feel like I haven’t spoken football in ages, so believe me when I say you are missed, son. _Terribly_ so.”   

Jongin couldn’t hold down the laughter that his father had always seemed to know how to ease out of him. “Apologies. I hadn’t realized it was sentencing you to months of endless Downtown Abbey marathons.”

“Ah-ah. Not a _bloody_ word about that show.”

“So…where _are_ the girls? Mum? Jenny? Jinri?”

Jongin’s father takes off the apron hanging loosely around his waist and bunches it up in his hands. “Shopping. Another thing I’ll never understand.” He says, his eyes falling on the blonde boy standing by the foyer. “Sehun, Nice to see you kid.”

Said boy moves forward to shake the hand outstretched to him with a polite smile. “Evening, Mr. Kim.”

 “Are you gonna stay the night?”

“If it’s no trouble. My mother will be here in the morning, I was hoping I could spend the night here.”

Jongin’s father, or Mr. Kim, sees it appropriate to ruffle his hair just then, reminded of the little skinny boy next door whose politeness never seemed to rub off “Oh, no trouble at all. You act as though you haven’t slept an entire summer holiday here in the past. Now, why don’t you boys scamper along and get settled in. We’re going out for supper once your mother and sisters get back. Wagamama’s, am i right?”

The two boys return to the foyer and pick up their luggage, bounding up the flight of stairs and barging straight into the Gryffindor’s room.  

 

Sehun had always thought that no other place in this world better depicted the coexistence of the realm of magic and the muggle world than Jongin’s room.

Elements of a typical college boy’s sanctuary could be found in all the corners you’d think to find them, but right next to them would always be something like worn out books in herbology, stacks of famous witches and wizards cards, or a broomstick.

It had always been one of Jongin’s best characteristics, possessing the warmth and homeliness that muggles always seemed to emulate. Despite the time he spends away from home, Hogwarts will never seem to compare to this tiny room where David Bowie posters are a constant presence on the burgundy walls, where kindergarten photos decorate the windows, and where video game collections are always arranged alphabetically on a shelf.

“Doesn’t this belong to....ah, his name escapes me. The Chinese one?”

Among the two, Sehun is the first to settle down, comfortably lounging on the neatly made bed the first minute he enters. Abbey trots in after him, swishing her auburn tail and settling herself onto the soft duvets as well. Jongin’s displeasure over cat hair itching his skin in his sleep has been ignored countless times in the past, enough times for him to learn that the feline just…doesn’t care.

He busies himself with hanging Penny’s bird cage on its rightful stand before turning to see what it is Sehun’s decided to get his hands on this time. “Oh that.” Is all he says upon catching sight of the remembrall coincidentally glowing bright red with smoke at the moment “You’re talking about Yixing. He must have left that here during the holidays…”

“No kidding. It’s probably glowing red right now because of itself.” The blonde snickers amusedly at his own remark, Jongin merely rolling his eyes as he approaches him, snatching the object out of his hold. “I’ll take that.” He says with a pointed look. Sometimes, Sehun Oh is just mentally stuck at 13.

“Doesn’t he live close by?”

“Mhm. Down south. Croydon, more specifically.”

“With that hufflepuff? Right?”

“Baekhyun? Yeah. It’s strange how you know more about their whereabouts than their actual names.” Jongin then sits on the opposite end of the bed, toeing his shoes off and leaning back to stroke Abbey’s fur soothingly. The cat purrs discreetly, ears flattening whenever his hand comes up over its head.

“All of you keep moving closer and closer together, I’m beginning to think that you’ve all planned it to make me feel bad about moving out.”

The Slytherin lifts his chin and puts forward his best pout, though unfortunately Jongin’s seen it one too many times to be affected by its charms “Maybe we did.” He teases, earning him an affronted look. “Don’t you know anyone from Brighton?”

“No one I’m familiar with. I mean, there’s Junmyeon and everything but he’s _so_ awkward.”

“He’s alright.”

“He’s so _awkward._ ”

Their conversation continues to play out like this, filling in with pointless jokes and snarky comments. All throughout a thought swims within the recedes of Jongin’s mind and he lets it linger, thinking that maybe if he ignores it long enough it would go away. But the more he tries, the more it just keeps coming back, flashes of the dining hall and students huddled together faintly flickering in his mind, of Sehun seated next to the boy he’s constantly drawn to.

He clears his throat, fiddling with Abbey’s left ear as he carefully picks his words, “What about…Well, I didn’t see your seeker at the station. Kyungsoo. I, I don’t think he was there. Or perhaps I just missed him.” He mutters, focusing his eyes on anything but the blonde before him. 

Sehun quirks a brow at how uncharacteristically evasive Jongin becomes whenever it falls down to matters regarding the Slytherin seeker, and if at first he was quite sure it was just his best friend being a sour prune about the entire house cup ordeal, now he’s convinced there are other reasons.  

 “Oh, don’t worry” he says with a lilt of tease, just to play along “you’re not going blind. He doesn’t take the train home but from what I hear, he travels by floo network.”

“You mean...directly into his home?”

“Yes. Don’t you know? He’s a pureblood, almost as pure as the Malfoys. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise to anyone in his household if a person were to rise out of the flames...his father works at the ministry so I’m rather sure that floo network is a common practice under their roof.”

“You mean to say he his address is registered? All those paperwork, done?”

“Purebloods always have it easier.”  

 _So he’s arrogant AND spoiled._ Jongin scowls, and this time he does nothing to try and hide it. “Isn’t he a 6th year? What’s he doing joining quidditch when he only has a year left to graduate?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Sehun is out of the bed at this point, pacing slowly around the room with his eyes fixated on the photographs he hasn’t seen before. “But he was quick to step up, when the news of Lalisa’s injury had broken out.”

“Ah.” Is all the other could offer as a response, and supposedly, the questions would’ve stopped there. But Jongin couldn’t seem to satiate the growing itch inside of him that keeps telling him there’s just so much more to know about Kyungsoo. As for _why_ he wants to know, _That,_ is the mystery.

So suspicions be damned, he sucks in his pride and voices out his thoughts. “Tell me, what’s he like?”

“Curiouser and curiouser you are, Mr. Kim. Why, are you interested?”

The Gryffindor swallows, lifting his chin up in faux confidence. “I am, and I _should_ be. If he stays he’ll be one of my opponents in next year’s matches and, as captain, I only see it appropriate to...get to know the competition.”

“Well aren’t you snakier than a Slytherin. And why should I tell you? Last I checked _you_ are the one in an opposing team.”

 “I’m testing your loyalty as a friend at the moment. Our relationship is in the line, don’t disappoint me.”

An amused smile rests on the blonde’ face, but thankfully he foregoes any snarky comeback he might have had ready and simply gives in to the other’s request. “He talks about you.” He supplies, causing Jongin to momentarily pause and take in the information, unsure of what to make of it.

 “Really?”

“Yes, an awful lot I’m afraid. It gets worse everyday.”

The confusion on Jongin’s face doesn’t leave. He couldn’t seem to fathom what reason there was for the older to chatter about him when they had met all but twice in the past semester.

He thinks about their first meeting and how he had been stupidly clueless about the other’s identity, the thought making it easier to imagine what sorts of words escape Kyungsoo’s lips with every mention of his name. With that and the incident of their final match, Kyungsoo’s probably had a lot of great stories to tell back in the dungeons. Unknowingly, Jongin clenches his fist tightly, mulling over his own foul thoughts.   

 “ _That,_ is for me to know and you to find out.” Sehun says with a soft cadence. “I warned him you know, I tried to stop him, and I told him you weren’t even worth the time and effort.”

Jongin rolls his eyes, his next few words spilling out without drop of sincerity “I’ll try not to be offended by that, thank you Sehun.”   

“But he keeps insisting it’s something about the way you fly...Come to think of it, I think he’s even mentioned having watched you practice before.”

_Something about the way I fly? Watched me practice?_

Apparently, Jongin wasn’t the only one doing his research. _Damn, that boy was clever._

The Gryffindor sighs, “Bugger, he’s so hard to read...” he says, laying on his back and watching the cream colored ceiling.  

“No surprise there. He’s not very sociable, to say the least, not even in the dungeons. Any Slytherin would probably agree with you if you make the assumption that he’s stand-offish. Really, all he ever hangs out with are his books and that noisome ravenclaw.”

The image of a flowing blue cloak and a pair of thin-framed, rounded glasses briefly crosses his mind, “I think you mean Jongdae.” He says, “Seriously don’t you ever remember anyone’s name apart from mine and your own?”

“It took me two years of living next door to you to remember yours, don’t feel special.”

Jongin opens his mouth with a ready response, but the sound of the front door opening followed by a chorus of laughter stops him.

The two eye each other knowingly, listening to a woman whose voice calls out their names. It reminds them of nights spent playing outside, with the smell of dinner wafting from an open window as the same voice beckons them back inside the house. Recognition hits them at the same moment and Jongin is the first to smile, his eyes forming crescent moons as he immediately bounces off the bed and bolts down the stairs.

“ _Darling!”_ the woman exclaims once Jongin comes into sight. He wastes no second in throwing his arms around her petite frame and lifting her up effortlessly in a spin. Her laugh is rich, warm, and beautiful, a sweet melody that the young Gryffindor will never get tired of hearing.

 _Mum,_ he says, _I’m home._


End file.
